Through the Eyes of a Warrior
by Calliope Foster
Summary: A series of short stories of other lady warriors that have fought for the kingdom of Tortall. Read, review, and enjoy! Thank you.
1. Kingdom of the Dunes

**Disclaimer**: I own the desert and the bulk of the people (except for the mention of King Jonathan) and the plot and idea of _this_ short story, but the rest goes to Tamora Pierce, that brilliant woman! This is going to be a series of short stories, all telling the tale of young warriors. So don't ask for more of any of the people unless the muse says so!!!! Lol, I don't care, ask, I'll try to continue if you like them. Read, review, and enjoy, please.

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**Through the Eyes of a Warrior**

**Story 1**

**Kingdom of the Dunes**

Isobel leaned on her sword for support, the glaring desert sun attempting to choke the life from her dry throat. The knight's once polished and glimmering silver armor had tarnished in the heat and due to earlier combat, there were plenty of dents throughout the chest plate, and the same fate had befallen her hailed and prized sword, Tintarna. It was a strange thing these days for one to name their swords, but Isobel felt naming her sword kept her in touch with the ancients and that both the god and goddess would look upon her with much respect for it.

Right now, Isobel cared for nothing more than the thought of a cool goblet of something preferably sweet and refreshing with a heaping plate of steaming, cooked food. Cradling her left arm that was wrapped with blood stained linens, Isobel limped forward, her mind set on getting anywhere as far from this damned sand trap as possible!

Sore and on her second morning without water, Isobel knew that she must find something, somewhere, and if she did not, she would surely die. _Strange,_ Isobel thought, _this is where I come from and yet, I have not been here for so long that I barely recognize it._

Before being who she was, Lady Isobel, Guardian of Tortall, this ill-fated warrior was a vagabond, a rat of the desert and a thief. The unnamed and untamed desert had once been Isobel's home and now she was fearful that it would be the place where she would tragically fall, too.

Stumbling, Isobel lost her footing, and in a moment's time her body slammed into the sand below her. Letting out a forced groan from the sharp pain in her left arm, Isobel grunted and rolled onto her back as she kept a tight lock on her sword in her hand. "Goddess…" Isobel cried desperately, but she could not sob because she had no tears, "forgive me for whatever I have done to offend you!"

The sun blinded Isobel, as if to mock her and punish her for all her wrongdoings. Struggling, Isobel attempted to sit up, but found that the sand would win this battle today. Slumping back onto the sand, Isobel lay limb and considered her death. Perhaps if she fell asleep, she could just…_drift_ into her death.

Despite the brightness of the sun a blackness cast over Isobel's eyes and thoughts, and although she still felt as hot as she did before, she found some peace in the darkness.

"She's not dead," a foreign tongue bickered, "she nearly was, but I found her before the vultures did."

"Was there anything of value on her?"

"No." The first voice huffed. "Just her rusty sword and armor."

Isobel moved her fingers. They slid across a gentle unknown surface and then formed her fist into a ball. _My sword…where's my sword?_

"We'll see if we can get anything out of them." The second voice was deep and strangely familiar. "As for her, I don't know what to do."

A third voice now came; tender and sweet like the coat of a newborn lamb. "What are the chances that she lives?"

The noise was too much for Isobel and she tried to tell them, but when she moved her lips only a pained moan came.

"Slim."

"Well…whatever you can do, do it." The third voice insisted. "We may be thieves, but we're not murderers."

A few moments of silence passed, only the sound of muffled crunching sand was heard, and then a very heavy presence seemed to settle on Isobel's chest as she heard steps coming nearer. "He must be mad." It was the first voice. "Although they're tattered now, her linens and armor are expensive—she's a noble!"

"Yes," the second voiced agreed, but sighed, "but she's one of us."

"What?" The first voice cried incredulously. "How do you know?"

A hand reached over to the linen scarf wrapped around Isobel's neck and revealed a strange black design beneath the cloth. "A symbol of the dragon's eye."

There was a soft, hot breeze and Isobel could feel her dark hair tickling her eyes, nose, and lips. A deep breath and Isobel's eyes began to slide slowly open. At first the world was a blur, but after a few moments Isobel could make out a tanned tent, the colorful rug she was belly-down on, and between the strange of hair she made out a cloaked figure nearby.

By goddess, where was she? Her eyes frantic, Isobel searched the opened tent she lay in for anything resembling a weapon as her breaths quickened. _Don't move. Don't breathe. They'll kill you._

The thought tamed Isobel's raging heart as she tried to soften her breaths to deep, sleepy ones again, and she attempted to remain calm. Soon, Isobel had begun to relax and may have even drifted back to sleep, but the figure nearby moved. Jerking to attention, Isobel leapt to her feet, frightening the figure.

"Don't be afraid." A young man gazed at her, his dark eyes trying to console her. "I won't hurt you."

Spots formed in Isobel's vision and she gasped when she almost fell. The young man stood and made an effort to save her from falling, but Isobel stumbled back a few feet, regarding him with caution.

A smile crossed the young man's lips, beneath his daintily trimmed moustache and beard. "You're in no condition to fight, warrior."

Pushing her hair out of her face, Isobel gritted her teeth fiercely. "You know _nothing_ of me, boy."

"Idrasha! Quit cajoling the boy!"

Isobel stiffened and when she turned her eyes to an older, hunched man who appeared she felt her spine tingle. Isobel remembered the name 'Idrasha' well. Idrasha the Desert Fox, was a more befitting and memorable title this warrior once dawned. Stealing to live and living from what she took, Isobel had once been called 'Idrasha' at a very early time in her life and was part of a southern parade of marauders in this very desert.

The man who called to Isobel had many more wrinkles and was much more hunched that before, but Idrasha recalled him instantly and almost smiled with joy before she collapsed.

Cool water stung her skin and in a flash, Isobel was awake again, gasping in surprise from the cold water. "There we go," a deep voice grunted as Isobel felt two hands beneath her shoulder and then the world spun, "feeling better, little fox?"

Blinking her eyes, Isobel blew water from her lips and nose, then got a better look at the men staring at her. "Yes, yes, I'm fine," Isobel grumbled, her words a little broken, moving from the elder man's grip, "my armor? My sword?"

"We save her life and then she asks things of us!" The older man complained with a laugh. "Even a former thief can be stuffy!"

"They are claimed," the young man replied, "like the rest of your belongings."

"_What_?" Isobel snapped, then saw her boots were missing. "I demand the _fool_ who did this to repay me in full!"

"_Repay_ you?" The young man chuckled. "Woman, we are but poor nomads. We steal what we have."

"Yes, I know, you're forgetting," Isobel hissed, "I was one of you heathens before!"

With that, Isobel stood on her feet and managed to wobble a few feet from the tent before she felt the hot desert sands begin to burn her feet. With a shout, Isobel rushed back into the shelter of the tent, her eyes on the laughing men. "I demand back my belongings and a horse so I may go on my way!"

"And to where would you go?" The young man frowned. "There are other thieves and plenty of murderers here. As well as slave traders—"

"I don't care!" Isobel ignored him. "I am a knight! A lady of the court of King Jonathan and I insist that you give me back my things and allow me to go on my way unharmed!"

"Or what?" The old man scoffed. "They sent a search for you? Last army that came in here got slaughtered, I believe you were part of the brigade, and not to mention that you're miles away from the battle site and probably presumed dead."

Annoyed, Isobel rolled her eyes. "Do not _test_ me old man! You've seen my temper."

"Who are you, then?" The younger man commanded, folding his arms over his chest.

"I am Lady Isobel. Guardian of Tortall."

"No," the old man shook his head, "he wants to know who you _were_."

Stricken a little, Isobel dropped her eyes a little, her past humbling her somewhat. "Old man, that little girl you _knew_ died many years ago in these passing sands…"

"She is Idrasha." The old man sighed. "The Desert Fox. Princess of the Dunes."

The young man's eyes grew wide and he gazed at Isobel in disbelief. "Idra?"

Isobel observed her captor for a moment and raised her brow. For so long now Isobel had pushed her whole past from her mind to start anew. "I suppose you expect me to remember you."

"It is me!" The young man cried, his dark eyes flashing and his lightly tanned skin dimpled at the corners of his eyes in an odd way as he stared at Isobel. "Tahjir!"

Isobel was suddenly taken aback. _My,_ she thought in a stunned state, _he has grown so…time goes so fast when you are away from those you know best._

"He is also the leader of our people, Idrasha," the wrinkled old man said, "and he has spared you from what horrible fate may have befallen you."

Turning cold, Isobel frowned. "And I should be grateful? My name is Lady Isobel, _beggar_."

"You would speak to your grandfather with such distaste!" Tahjir scorned.

A girl entered, curious about the racket and smirked at Isobel. "Nice to see you're up, sleeping beauty."

Isobel's temper raged. "I have an audience now?"

"Oh don't be so quick to judge," the girl scowled, "you're just as self-righteous as ever, Idrasha. You're lucky I found you when I did."

Gathering her pride, Isobel stared at the girl frigidly. "I would have liked an honorable death."

"In the belly of vultures?"

Eyeing this intruder, Isobel found from the tension between them she recognized the presumed stranger almost immediately. "I see that I have held weight in your memories as well, Etfera."

"As much as the thought of you only being _Idrasha_ here weighs on you."

The intruder was given a sharp look from Tahjir and remained silent. Turning to Isobel, Tahjir sighed. "The desert claimed you, but due to their mercy you live and you were brought to me. Now you belong to me and as long as you do no harm will come to you, but you will listen to me and you will do as I say, Lady Isobel." Tahjir said sternly, his speech never faltering. "Or you will die."

With that, Tahjir left, leaving only Etfera, Isobel, and the old man Gah alone.

The sun was fading and a large tan cat lounged in the sun at the feet of a wrinkled old man named Gah. Isobel watched the old man work and as he did, he sang softly an ancient tune and rocked back and forth gently. Gah had a knife in his right hand held firmly as he cut into a hard and glassy stone that seemed to peel back like butter. "Without Tahjir…we would be only sand."

Isobel ignored the old man, a harsh and hot wind throwing sand on her linens as she rested, gazing off into the never-ending dunes. "Yes, after our princess left us, we were a broken people."

_There were reasons,_ Isobel wanted to say, _I had too many reasons not to stay._

Pausing, Gah turned and gave tender eyes to Isobel. Gazing back at him, Isobel's eyes were filled with uncertainty. "I thought you were dead." Then, the old man went back to his work as if the thought of her death was only a shrug. "When I saw what Eftera brought in from the sands, I did not recognize you at first. Your skin is much paler than I remember."

"Yes…it is." Isobel replied.

"We are no longer your people." Gah stated. "We are the vagabonds. The evil heathens you seek to destroy."

"It is your kind that has provoked us."

"Yes," Gah agreed, "but aren't all men entitled to live? Even heathens?"

Isobel's eyebrows furrowed and she felt a knot in her chest. "You are villainous cowards and killers. You deserve whatever you receive. Weather it be treasure or torture."

Gah decided not to bother with his granddaughter any longer. She was too much like her mother.

The horses were black, decorated ornately with what seemed to be patches from kingdoms everywhere. These horses were stolen, or found, and they were in good condition. Sturdy enough to withhold the sands. Isobel might have tried a camel, had she thought they would have behaved, but she did not dare to wake anyone.

Slowly, the dark haired maiden crept over the sands, her thoughts only on escape and her eyes scanning for any sign of observer. In a flash, Isobel was at the horse's side, and attempted to climb the black steed.

There was a thud and Isobel gasped for breath, the air knocked from her. "I would not try that if I were you, Lady Isobel."

Gathering her wits, Isobel found herself gazing into two very familiar and extremely close dark eyes. Grinding her teeth, Isobel struggled in Tahjir's strong grasp. "Get _off_ of me."

"You make for quite a warrior," Tahjir teased as he held her down, "would you like me to use all my strength? Or am I hurting you already?"

Isobel kneed Tahjir in the back, catching him off guard and she threw sand in his face before getting to her feet and scrambling away. After a slight thought of being angry, Tahjir just watched Isobel run like a scared puppy and laughed loudly at her expense. Isobel hid in the tent, beneath the covers they gave her and she shivered for fear Tahjir may follow her. "Goddess protect me…" Isobel whispered.

Tahjir was not the one Isobel needed to worry about.

When morning came Isobel was taken by surprise. She had not expected to sleep for fear Tahjir or some other villain may come to attempt to defile her, but somehow the vigilant knight had fallen into a deep dream with hues of golds, purples, and greens.

The place was bustling about, people swarming and running with loads of things in their arms. Something was thrown in front of her face and Isobel jumped back in surprise, then glanced up to see a shirtless figure. Tahjir stood above Isobel, his hands on his bare waist, his skin gleaming in the sun. "Your traveling wear, Princess."

Isobel sat up and glanced at the sandals he had given her, and then gazed up at him. He certainly did not have to give her those—she would not have done it for him. Spitefully, as Tahjir walked away, Isobel chucked the gifts, hitting him both in the back and the head. When Tahjir glanced back, Isobel spit on the ground in fury, a sign of disrespect and disgust among these people, but when Isobel noticed that the spit sizzled on the sand, she regretted her actions.

Tahjir picked up his charity and went off.

Her lip was raw from biting. The pain in Isobel's feet matched nothing she had ever felt before and even though she was near sobbing, she held no emotion at all. You did not cry here. A knight did not cry.

Enduring her pain, Isobel walked beside Gah, helping him now and then when the old man stumbled. "You should have accepted those shoes, granddaughter."

Isobel just gazed at Gah as they walked arm in arm. "I'm fine."

"By the way you squeeze my arm," the old man comments, "you seemed to be having more trouble than I."

Releasing the old man, Isobel moved ahead. Not far down the line of nomads, a large black horse moved about, with a familiar rider, the sweat of the rider making his shirt cling to his muscular back. The leader spoke mostly with girl, Etfera, but now and then the leader would trail behind Isobel and she could feel him watching her as he came closer with each jaunt. It made her furious.

Soon Tahjir moved close enough to Isobel to shelter her from the heat of the sun. "You should have taken the shoes."

Isobel clenched her fists. "I like to suffer."

"So you are suffering?"

"I never said that."

Tahjir laughed. "I can give you a ride, if you like."

"Go away."

"I am trying to be kind to you and all you do is _spite_ me."

Isobel glared at Tahjir. "Can't you just leave me be?"

"Your feet look terrible."

The knight did not even dare to look down, but instead she looked straight ahead, ignored Tahjir as he rode beside her. Finally the leader gave a sigh and kicked his horse into a run. Isobel felt somewhat relieved, but her pain seemed to worsen.

When the long walk finally ended for the night, Isobel made sure the tent she had was far from everyone else's while she tended to her wounded feet. The knight did not know how long she could go long. Well at least she would have something to whine about at court.

The blisters on Isobel's feet were painful and burned as she tried to wrap them in what linen she could spare from her sleeves. She would be paying for her uncovered arms tomorrow. Gah's large cat lounged nearby. Earlier the tanned cat had come and sniffed at her feet in concern, but now he just lay near Isobel because she had tried to shoo him away.

"Let me see your feet."

Isobel glanced up and narrowed her eyes. What did _she_ want?

Etfera rolled her eyes. "You always _were_ stubborn."

Kneeling before Isobel, Etfera took Isobel's foot in her hands and began to unwrap them. "Ouch!"

"Oh, don't be such a—oh my!" Etfera took in a sharp breath, then gazed at Isobel sorrowfully and finally shook her head. "You are too bold headed for your own good."

"Don't you _dare_ judge me." Isobel snapped. "You don't know me at all."

Etfera grinned and suddenly Isobel felt a cool sensation run over the bottom of her foot. As Etfera rubbed in a salve, she spoke. "It is nice to know that you aren't dead."

"You can't lie to me, Etfera. You never could."

"You don't know me either, _Isobel_."

Isobel just laughed at her and when Etfera finished wrapping back up both of Isobel's feet, the two grew very silent. Etfera moved to go away. "Wait," Isobel grabbed Etfera's wrist, "how could I ever repay you?"

Smiling, Etfera reached behind her back, and after a few seconds she produced two boots. "Wear these and the debt between us is repaid."

Isobel woke up to shrieks and screams—women wailing and men shouting curses in two different languages. Recognizing each language, Isobel clambered to her feet and as she ran out, slipped on her boots. She was nearly run over by a horse, but was able to move out of the way. "We have to go!" Etfera appeared, grasping Isobel by her shoulders. "Lady Isobel—"

Two men attacked Tahjir, one stabbed his horse and the other sliced his side. "Where's my sword?" Isobel looked to Etfera.

Etfera paused, staring at Isobel in confusion. "Never mind!" Isobel snapped and ran off, finding a bow amongst a fallen thief.

Taking the quiver on her arm, Isobel raised the bow, setting the arrow against the string, and drew back. Etfera was furious. "Traitor!"

Ignoring her, Isobel released her arrow, letting it soar and find its place into the throat of the king's soldier. Isobel appeared like a deity, her hair blowing in her face, her sandy colored linen nightclothes waving in the wind, her dark brown hair flowing with the breeze. "My sword!"

Etfera's disbelieving eyes suddenly woke and she nodded. "I will retrieve them!"

People ran by in hysteria, but Isobel remained calm. Where was her grandfather? Isobel drew another arrow on her bow and with dead aim hit a man riding toward her. That's when Isobel saw Gah and his large lynx, Tin, and they were both doing fine. Etfera appeared. "Your sword and armor, Lady Isobel."

"Keep it," Isobel commanded, "you'll need them. Go get Tahjir, he's hurt."

Soon enough the small band of Jonathan's men were riding off, with a stray treasure of gold or a woman. "Isobel!"

Turning, Isobel saw Etfera, Gah, and Tin leaning over a fallen warrior as a black horse lay struggling nearby. Limping to them, Isobel knelt at the head of the fallen Tahjir. "I'll be fine," Tahjir insisted through his pain, "allow me to get up."

Ignoring him, Isobel gestured to Gah, who lifted the young man's linens to show the deep gash. Isobel hissed with empathy, then she looked to Tahjir and leaned down very closely to speak with him in confidence. "Etfera will see to your wounds, thief king. You will live to fight another day."

Gazing up at her, Tahjir swallowed. "You are a traitor amongst them now…you are an untrustworthy hero here. Will you see to the safety of my people, Princess?"

Isobel frowned in thought, and then sat up. "What of his horse, Lady Isobel?"

"Take Tahjir somewhere safe." Isobel commanded. "We move tonight."

Etfera and Gah stood, Tin following loyally. "But leave my sword with me, Etfera."

Casting Isobel a wary glance, Etfera slowly placed the untainted sword on the ground. Watching the two help Tahjir back, and a few stray helpers join in, Isobel went to the sword and lifted it. For a moment the knight gazed at the horse, struggling to breathe, feeling a pain in her chest for the regal creature. Moving to the head of the horse, Isobel knelt down and began to stroke its sweaty forehead. "Don't fret, warrior," Isobel whispered, "you did well and will be rewarded greatly in the heaven you go to."

Leaning forward, Isobel kissed the horse's cheek and then stood.

The sound of metal slicing through flesh was heard and the slight neigh of a broken horse. Blood settled onto the sand, sinking deep into the dune. Isobel turned and gazed at the crimson morning sky, misted in the linger dust swept into the air by the conflict. _An omen._

With that, the dune princess slowly made her way to the tent where Tahjir had been taken. He would live to fight another day, but Isobel's journey ahead was littered with stains of blood and strife—she knew this now. Through the warrior's eyes, she saw her heritage of the kingdom of the dunes.


	2. A Rider in the Distance

**Disclaimer: **I own all the characters mentioned, the palace, the horses, but that's it. I don't own the actual cities and Tortall, no that's dear Tamora Pierce and I adore her greatly! Read and review, please!

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**Through the Eyes of a Warrior**

**Story 2**

**A Rider in the Distance**

"I didn't want it to come to this, Coriana."

There was a tight knot in my throat. "Neither did I."

A hand fell on my gently shoulder as I gazed vacantly off into the distance. I heard a sharp breath from Sir Eglam, as if he might say something, but then no sound came and he gave a sigh. I bit my bottom lip, desperately trying not to show any weaknesses. "You did what you had to, my lord."

I believe that Eglam was glad that I spoke for him. That I understood. "Coriana, I've arranged for a family to take you in."

The knot in my throat suddenly felt as if it had burst into flames. _Take me in?_ "I _don't_ need charity, Sir Eglam."

"You've had a hard life, I know this, squire." Eglam's kind voice led my eyes to his. "I do it not out of charity, but out of compassion. I care for you as if you were my own daughter…Ana."

Eglam's eyes were gray, like a stormy day, his face gentle and always sad looking, as if he had seen his share of tragedy and more. His hair was like every knight, cut short, but neatly combed forward. Even at his age, Eglam's hair still retained its natural brown color. I collapsed into Eglam's arms, wanting for a brief moment to feel safe…to feel loved again. "Oh, my poor lass." Eglam kissed my hair as I let out a reluctant sob. Pulling me away, Eglam lifted my chin. "Don't be afraid of what's to come, Ana. _Embrace_ danger—it is what brings us the greatest joys."

The flow of my tears seemed to carry some weight from my shoulders. "I don't know if I can even go on…"

Burying my face in his shoulder, I continued to cry as Eglam comforted me, his voice soft. "We cannot change the past."

Oh that horrible word! I wanted none of it! Thoughts raced to my mind, thoughts of the _past_. First my parents, then my best friend Adelaide. I had watched Adelaide die, though, slowly, where as it had been easier with my parents since I had not been there. Adelaide was a troubled young woman, her life filled with obstacles she had trouble surmounting, and finally, Adelaide gave up. Adelaide simply just ceased living. She received no words, refused any sustenance, and before I knew it, Adelaide had driven a dagger through her chest right before my eyes. I could see Adelaide's face now, looking so relieved as she slowly slumped back in an odd position while she faded away.

I pulled away from Eglam and wiped my eyes. "When may I return?"

"In six months time."

Hesitating, I stared at Eglam with uncertainty. Eglam chuckled, but I remained serious. "You have my word."

"I'll remember that." I said, blinking my stinging eyes. "I will see you in six months, my lord."

"Chin up, Ana." Eglam commanded. "And I don't want you coming back out of shape."

At this I laughed and after a final goodbye, I went to the loaded chariot, where I was carried off down a cobble-stone road to a place I had never been before.

Sometime during my journey I fell into a deep sleep. I cannot describe the dream I had. Adelaide appeared to me, wearing her tunic and dirt smudged on her face from practice—it was the mental image I always had of my best friend. In my dream there was something very different about Adelaide. Her dark eyes seemed haunted, in great pain, and she reached out for me, her features gaunt and sickly looking. _"Won't you join me, Coriana?"_

I gasped at the halting jerk of the carriage. My hair fell into my face, sticking to my perspiring skin. I took a few deep breaths, shoving the disquieting dream from my thoughts. The door to the carriage suddenly swung open and I blinked even in the dim light of the last rays of the setting sun. "Lady Coriana Dartmouth of Tyra, welcome to the house of Baron Atticus Donall of Whitehorn."

After gaining my wits from the initial scare of the sudden face that popped in front of me, I smiled and helped myself out of the carriage. "Thank you."

Wiping the dust that had been kicked up from the horses off of my best black tunic, I continued on my way, two house servants going to my bags immediately. I paused, gazing up at the house before me. It was dark—filled with shadows and gloom, so much that the house seemed to suck the life from the vines that climbed up its sides, only to begin to wither and die. Would it take what life I had left?

My thoughts were erased when I saw an older man coming toward me. The Baron. "Lady Coriana." The Baron smiled, outstretching his hand, palm up for a greeting.

"Baron," I smiled back, but took his hand in full and shook it firmly to his dismay, "I want to express my appreciation for you allowing me to lodge in your house in these troubling times."

Atticus was a large man. With a large, rusty colored handle-bar moustache, dark chocolate brown eyes, and built of large, but rounded angles. In short, the man was absolutely massive, and more than twice my size. I'd have better chances with a Spidren.

"Yes." The baron nodded, releasing my hand. "Well Lord Eglam stressed that you were a very honorable young woman and that I should have no problems with you being around."

He could have just said 'you're welcome'. I forced myself to remain pleasant. "Lord Eglam spoke of you greatly as well."

"Well then, come in," Baron Atticus instructed, turning and leading to the entrance of the great house, "I will have my servants show you your room."

As I followed the baron I felt as if someone was watching me. I lifted my eyes to a window we had begun to pass under. For a moment it looked as if a figure stood at the window, ghostly pale, blonde hair waving in the gentle, sorrowful wind. I blinked my eyes and the apparition disappeared. A trick of the mind perhaps.

"Now and then you will see a wispy figure walking about, as if she were lost." Atticus spoke, his booming voice echoing through the cavernous castle. "Don't fret. It's just my life. Allow her to go on her way and she shan't bother you."

I felt the knot in my throat again. _Oh, Eglam, you _must_ be testing me._ "Tack! Signys!"

A young girl and boy suddenly appeared, at the roar of the baron. I flinched at the reverberation of the castle from the baron's monstrous vocal capacity. My, I would be getting dizzy here, wouldn't I?

"Yes my lord?" The children chorused.

The young voices warmed my heart and I smiled at the two. Youngest was the girl, she was petite, but I could tell that she was headstrong by the way she vied for approval of her lord while the taller and older young man kept his eyes averted and head slightly bent. I resolved to fix that. "Show the Lady Coriana to her room." The baron commanded, then glared at the young girl. "And no horseplay!"

With that, the baron stormed away and the two children looked to me, observing me as if I was a fish to be gutted. Nervously, I stepped forward. As always I kept my head high, my hands behind my back, and a knowing smirk on my lips. "Hello there."

The girl's eyes lit up and she curtsied. "Hello Lady Coriana!"

Once I might have curtsied, but that was years ago. "Lady Coriana." The young boy bowed slightly.

"Are you really a knight?" The little girl asked with curiosity.

The boy snapped at her. "Tack!"

I just laughed at them. "That I am, little one. So now I have it—you are Tack, and this is Signys, correct?"

"Yes." Tack replied with disgust. "But that's not my _real_ name."

"Oh really?"

"Her real name's Otany." Signys informed.

"I could have told her that!"

My heart warmed to these two children. They brought a brightness that I had not felt for a long time. "I hope we will be in each other's company often."

"Oh yes." Tack said with excitement. "I wish to be a knight, too, Lady Coriana."

"And you will be." I said with a smile. "You can do whatever you set your heart to."

"Perhaps you shouldn't fill her head with false dreams." An airy voice said.

I rose, ahead of me I saw the apparition that had vanished from the window only moments ago. The ghostly woman scowled at the suddenly alarmed children. "Take the Lady Coriana to her room."

Eyeing the baroness, I felt an odd tingle run up my spine. Something told me that to cross this woman would be a far worse fate than to cross the baron himself. The children scampered off, insisting I follow them. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Baroness."

The woman gazed at me, her eyes wide in shock as if I had struck her down with my sword. The baroness's icy blue eyes made me shiver and I felt a small hand in mine, leading me off.

After getting settled in and changing into less formal dress, I decided to take a tour of the castle. The children had lingered in my room for some time before they were called off by their mother, the cook, to help prepare for supper. I rued the thought of joining the baron and his odd wife for dinner, but it was only common courtesy and I would be polite, as I was taught. I wanted to write to Lord Eglam, but I found no inspiration, and so I took to the halls.

Everything was so strange amongst these halls. The corridors seemed endless, I seemed to be going in circles, and each room of the thousand rooms looked the same, filled with luxurious things, and yet so empty. Cob webs lingered in the corners, mingling with a tickling, stale breeze, and the grey stone walls were damp, as if they had been weeping making everything seem heavy and tragic.

Soon I arrived back to my room and I saw a woman bent over something. When I stepped into the brightly lit room I saw a rosy-cheeked face turned to me. "Mercy me!" The woman cried and wiped her hands on her shirt. "I'd 'oped ta get this here before ye came back! As not to disturb ye!"

"No matter," I grinned and waved her apology away, "I enjoy pleasant company."

"Well you're a first." The woman grumbled bitterly, then pasted a big smile on her welcoming, round face. "I hope you like lamb, milady."

I suddenly remembered I was famished. "At this point in time, anything would satisfy me."

"Well then come in, come in," the woman insisted, and lifted a silver cover from a plate, releasing the most wonderful aroma my nostrils had ever had the pleasure of wafting, "before your supper is cold."

"It smells absolutely divine." I expressed frankly making her laugh. "If I may say so."

"Oh, deary me," the woman smiled gratefully, "we're in for a treat with you, lass. My name's Wendolinn. But you kin call me Wendy. If ya need me, know that I'm the only cook in this god forsaken house! Now come n' eat yer supper."

The woman had to tempt me no more. I sat and ate heartily, filling her head with compliments. "If you were a man, I'd love you." Wendy pinched my cheek. "Enjoy your supper, love, and I'll send a few servants up to see that you're well settled."

With that Wendy whisked out of the room, leaving me completely alone once more. I ate slower now, wishing for a companion to help brighten the room once more, but with the dimming of the sun, so did the candles and spirit.

Instead of feeling refreshed, I felt so drained, and remembered my great carriage ride, still feeling the bumps and slams in the knots that filled my back. Without a second thought, I dressed in my nightclothes and climbed right beneath the plentiful covers and fell into a quick, deep sleep.

Alas, the night was restless. Full of dreams of Spidrens and enemies chasing me. Of all the things in the world, I hate Spidrens most due to my parents' death. I attempted to kill the Spidrens by decapitation, but whenever I would cut off one's head, three more Spidrens would sprout. The dream went on for what seemed to be all night until I awoke to the light of midday.

Could I have slept for so long? Even when I was not awakened by a bell, I would usually wake up at the first rays of light, but how could I have slept until midday?_ The ride,_ I thought, _it drained me and even after such a sleep, I still hunger for more._

A breakfast steamed at the foot of my bed.

I took my food, my thought wandering as I ate. I felt completely drained, but I knew the reason, so after breakfast I placed on a plain tunic and went to the stables where I came across a raven colored mare. I had been inspecting the horses, but it seemed as if she, too, were inspecting me. "Hello," I smiled at the coal eyed horse, moving close, "have you had your exercise today?"

The horse seemed to approve of me with a snort. "Neither have I, my friend." I smirked and moved forward, petting her long, sable mane. "Black as night…I suppose they've named you something awful."

Chomping on her bit, the horse licked at a golden sign on her stall. Stepping back, I observed the plaque on the stall and smiled. "Amelai." I looked at the black horse and laughed. "So I was wrong. A fitting name for a fitting horse. Do you wish to roam the grounds as I do?"

At this notion the horse neighed loudly in agreement and I laughed aloud in surprise. "Say no more, Amelai."

The mare was larger than usual, her back wide, but strong and young, and her gait was just as vital. I know I should have asked before taking the horse out, but no one was near the stables so I took to Amelai's back before anyone could refuse me. Before I was even settled, Amelai took off like a shot, running clear out of the stables and through the green.

I panicked first, but held my wits about me somehow, grabbing hold of the reigns and steadying myself as Amelai gained speed. As the wind ravaged my crimson hair and slapped at my face, I felt as if I had melded with the steed, her spirit making our bind, her pace making us fly.

Soon the horse slowed, far out of sight of the gloomy castle behind us where a wide, clear stream ran. I rested wearily. My whole body was exhausted from the ride. The black horse came to me, sniffing my stomach as I lay on the ground, my hands behind my head to cushion it. _"What's the matter with you"_ The mare seemed to ask as she ruffled my hair with her snout.

"No worry, girl" I rubbed horse's snout fondly"I'm just tired, that's all…"

The days passed slowly, but time seemed to be going faster than ever and soon the month was gone. I rode Amelai daily to keep my spirits up and she seemed to approve of our relationship, as long as she was in charge. Sometimes, I believed us to be lost, but Amelai always knew her way, and she beckoned me to rest a while so she could, too. Our time together was happy and peaceful.

At the castle I rarely say Atticus or his ghost of a wife, but I was often visited by Wendy's two darling children, Signys and Tuck. Every day Signys laughed a little more and Tuck became fairly braver.

Three months had passed since I last saw Eglam. I wrote to him, but my letters seemed to fall on blind eyes—perhaps busy even, but Eglam never answered my messages.

An odd night in my sleep I dreamt of sun and grass. Surprising that I had for so long dreamt of gray and gloom to now see Sol and all his wonders arrive in my dreams. I knew I stood in the middle of a large field, the sun so bright it nearly blinded me, but off in the distance I saw a rider.

Raising my hand to shield my narrowed eyes, I strained to see the face of the approaching knight. I spied a glimmer of silver, a ruffle of a white and red flag rising above the rider.

I woke with a start at the sound of metal slamming down. "Oy!" A familiar voice cried as I shot up in bed. "Sorry, miss, din't mean ta wake ye."

Rubbing the sleep from my lids, I shook my head and viewed the midday sun. "Lords above…" I cursed beneath my breath, "have I slept so late?"

"Ye needed yer rest." Wendy instructed. "Now come an' fulfill the hunger you gained through the night. 'Sides, no reason te worry until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I queried in confusion. "What of tomorrow?"

"The Master Tadhg returns home. Atticus's nephew." Wendy said with delight as she wiped her floury hands on her apron. "An' he's a handsome one he is, 'as the loveliest eyes I ever seen."

"Tadhg?" I asked with sudden realization. "Sir Tadhg Beckett of Blue Harbor?"

"That'd be the same."

Sir Tadhg was a year or two ahead of me and we never truly crossed paths much, but Eglam knew him well and the two were good friends. I looked to Wendy with gratification, but I felt a worried grimace sweep over my emotions. "Thank you…"

Wendy just smiled brightly, her red cheeks popping up, and then she exited the room, leaving me be. I felt well being left alone. I felt safe.

Taking out quill and parchment, I set to writing.

_Eglam_

_Oh the man I so miss, who's own pupil seems unworthy of his time. I jest, dear friend, for another matter is at hand. I know your motives, old man, I'm catching on! I bet you're going mad with fury now, but I know of your spies. Sir Tadhg? I rest my case, foolish knight._

_Ahh__, well, I've talked enough in my other writings. Fare tidings, good knight. I think of you as day and night pass over these hills._

_With love and duty,_

_Ana_

I rolled the parchment into a scroll and sighed staring at it. "Do write back, Eglam."

The sun was high as I picked the heathers, my hair tied out of my face and lightened from the days outside, freckles forming over my nose and cheeks. I heard the distant neigh of a horse and stood, the sun nearly blinded me so I raised my hand to shield my eyes.

In the distance I saw him—the knight I saw not but a night before in my dreams. Shining silver armor, a red and white banner waving above him, and a charging gelding heading my way. Amelai was well aware of the approaching knight. "Sir Tadhg." I whispered, but Amelai seemed to already know.

Moments later I found myself rushing into the castle, through a secret side entrance I happened across long ago, and that's when I saw him approaching. I gasped for breath from the flight, and Tadhg was ever so near, his eyes bright and sky blue, his hair a lovely dark, creamy brown with a mix of rays of sun that had been trapped there. A tall, but thin figure with broad shoulders, a well toned waist I supposed, jagged jawbone and cheekbones, and a prominent, well formed nose. Tadhg looked as regal as ever, his red and white flag of the Beckett horse proudly displayed.

"Lady Coriana?"

I turned to see young Tuck and smiled at her prim and proper little form. "You look lovely, Otany."

"You might have washed up a bit," Tuck scolded like an old maid, "but Master Tadhg will be 'appy enough ta greet you."

I lifted Tuck into my arms and swung her around, making her giggle. "Well." A soft voice said, stopping me. "You're in good spirits."

Stopping, I turned to see that Sir Tadhg had entered—the grand ceremony not a custom here. I let Tuck on her own feet, and looked to Tadhg, who seemed to revel in the mess of a sight I must have been. "You look well, Lady Coriana."

"I'm not at my best, I assure you," I admitted with a coy smile, "but it is good to see a familiar face."

Tadhg had always been one to taunt the younger pages, but he had a special liking to annoy me. I noted that Tadhg had grown some, there were handsome lines at the corner of his lovely mouth, and his hair had become darker, matching the moustache and well cut tiny beard he now sported.

"Ahh, there's my little devil," Tadhg's attention drew to Tuck now and outstretched his arms as he crouched down, "come here, you."

Tuck ran to the knight, his arms covering her protectively. "My you've grown!" Tadhg laughed, pulling Tuck away as he teased her. "But only by a pea!"

Furiously, Tuck stuck her tiny fists on her hips. "I've grown more!"

"Go on now and help your brother prepare for dinner," Tadhg instructed, "I've a few things to discuss with Lady Coriana."

"All right." Tuck sighed and slinked off.

After a few moments of watching Tuck's act, Tadhg turned to me. "I hope you get on well with the baron and his wife."

I gave a nod. "We stay out of each other's way."

"Eglam wishes me to send you greetings." Tadhg informed. "And he wonders if you've received any of his letters."

I felt my spine tingle. _What letters?_

Tadhg noticed my sudden vacant look. "Milady?"

"Yes…I…" I searched for words, and finally gathered my voice, "I did receive his letters, Sir Tadhg, but I could not find the strength to return his kind words."

"It is not my business," Tadhg said with sympathy, taking my hand in his, "you've no need of explanation. Eglam understands."

It was a brave gesture, but a kind one, and I felt his warmth gathered in my palm as he gazed at me and I in turn stared at our hands together. I wished Tadhg would have held my hand forever, because in his grasp I could feel some of the pain lodged inside of me begin to seep out and vanish. Letting him slip away, I looked into Tadhg's eyes, but I saw nothing but blue.

"Supper shan't be ready for some time," Tadhg said gently, then grinned, "I saw you in the fields earlier…you looked at ease there. Shall we escape to that heaven?"

Being in the presence of Tadhg brought back memories—although they may have been happy, I never felt so alone as I did then. Without someone to laugh with you at all the crazy things you've done…how do you make memories well again?

"At first I thought you were a fairy amongst the brush," Tadhg teased as we walked side by side and I chuckled with a slight blush, "but then, I saw that red hair of yours."

I glared at Tadhg. "You always did like to remind me how _red_ my hair was."

"I was jealous," Tadhg winked at me with a laugh, "jealous of all that auburn hair of yours and each of those silly freckles you have."

"Oh you!" I gave him a slug in the arm.

Tadhg grabbed my wrist playfully and when I tried to push him away with my free hand, he grabbed that one, too, and we fell to the ground. "Oof!" Tadhg said as we hit the ground, hidden by the tall swaying grass as I gazed into his blue eyes, in turn he looked into my amber ones. "Quite a strong one you've turned out to be, Lady Coriana!"

I struggled with the young knight. "Let go of my wrists or I shall inflict well deserved pain on you in very touchy areas!"

Moving, I rolled to my left, Tadhg coming with me, and lying above me, our eyes meeting once more…but there was an odd light in his that I had not seen before. For a moment we remained suspended in our thoughts.

A large bell rang. "Dinner!" Tadhg shouted and like a youngster, rose to his feet, and bolted off. "Last one there must eat from the floor!"

"Oh no you don't Sir Tadhg!" I cried after him. "You just _wait_!"

I awoke smiling. My breakfast had not yet arrived and the first of the sun's rays had begun to warm the earth. Boredom overtook me, when sleep could not, and soon I was in the stables, preparing to ride Amelai.

"Up so early?" I jumped and spun about, seeing Tadhg approaching. "Did I scare you?"

"Of course not." I replied, allowing Amelai from her stall. "And for your information, I ride Amelai every morning."

"Good," Tadhg smirked, "then I will have company."

"Good." I agreed. "Then so will Amelai."

Tadhg pouted boyishly and the two of us rode off together. Amelai was always a good few paces out ahead of Tadhg's gelding. "Quit going so fast!" Tadhg shouted. "Won't you be courteous for one minute!"

I slowed Amelai a bit, and turned back. "Maybe your steed needs a morning jaunt more often."

Tadhg frowned coming up beside me. "You think you're clever, don't you?"

"I know I am."

Amelai snorted with annoyance at the gelding's sniffing of her. "Tell your beast to leave mine be."

"She's not yours." Tadhg shot back. "She was Thomas's."

"Who's Thomas?"

"Atticus's son." Tadhg replied sadly. "My cousin."

Tadhg was easy to speak with and kind to me in every manner. We spent most of the morning together, and dined together when we arrived back at the castle. Atticus joined us for a moment or two, before disappearing with Tadhg to discuss some important matters.

As I sat in the downstairs, open chambers, I kept my eyes closed and daydreamed of the times to come. I could not seem to exclude Tadhg from my thoughts.

A cold draft wafted through the small room. Opening my eyes with a start, I turned to see a familiar ghostly form approaching. "Baroness…" I stood immediately.

"Don't play your tricks with _me_." The baroness hissed. "Don't play your games with _my_ nephew, you rusty haired little _cow_."

I was taken aback—the woman looked incapable of such foul words, but stranger things had occurred in earlier times. "Beg your pardon?"

"Evil little temptress!" The baroness fired, pointed at me with a long, lovely finger. "He is not yours to love!"

As fast as she came, the baroness disappeared.

Due to the scare of the baroness, I avoided Tadhg for fear of what the woman really was capable of! Tadhg tried his best to converse, but I woke earlier, ate alone, and stayed far from him.

I traversed the castle when I was among its corridors, and became lost in its endless halls. I had journeyed to the library, which nested at the top floor, gotten to from my room by a secret winding staircase behind a tapestry, I often ventured to the library to read of all of Tortall's history and to remain alone.

As I walked amongst the bookshelves, my hand dragging along the dusting book bindings, and my mind elsewhere, I did not realize Tadhg was there until he took my hand in his. "Lords of all—"

"Do not be frightened," Tadhg said in a hushed voice, "I pray the lady has not discouraged you from a friendship with me…"

I stared at Tadhg—how could have he known?

"Might I ask something of you?"

"Tadhg—"

"We are safe here," Tadhg assured, taking both of my hands in his, "I have known you for many years and yet I knew nothing of you…but in these past few days, just hearing you breathe takes my own from me…when you speak my heart wakes from a cold and doomed slumber. I feel as if I know you more now than if I had spent a thousand years with you."

I stared at Tadhg. "We are barely even friends."

Pressing his face in my hands, Tadhg gave a frustrated sigh. "Oh, how can my heart hurt when you are not near?"

"Tadhg…"

Raising his eyes, Tadhg gazed at me and pressed his hand to my cheek. I felt a surge of energy pulse through me and I closed my eyes, leaning into his warm palm. "Oh, Ana…"

Opening my eyes, I pulled his hand from my face and glared at Tadhg. "Don't pretend that you love me." I demanded with furious passion running through me, his face now in my hands. "Don't you _dare_ make a fool of me…"

We kissed, our lips embracing and melding into one. "We must keep it a secret from the baroness…"

"But why?"

"Her son and I shared many similarities…" Tadhg replied, "and she does not comprehend loss."

"Whatever you wish." I took his hands in mine again. "I will do."

Tadhg smiled, brushing hair from my face. "Oh how I adore each and every freckle that appeared on that blessed nose of yours."

With that, Tadhg kissed my nose and cheeks as I laughed.

On the continuing days, Tadhg and I avoided each other. Only in close passing did we gently squeeze each other's hands, or steal a passionate kiss in a hidden hallway. Soon came the time that I was to return to Eglam.

A carriage was sent for me and I wished everyone well. I gave Signy a small dagger and Tuck my quill and parchment. Wendy hugged me a tight goodbye, Atticus shook my hand like a man, Tadhg nodded, wishing me well, and the baroness hovered above us at her window. I looked to her before getting into the carriage.

I waved, promising to return when I was knighted.

When we were out of sight of the castle, I finally settled and tried to sleep again, when the carriage came to an abrupt stop. "What going on?" I grunted and swung open the door.

Two shimmering blue eyes met mine in a welcome. "Tadhg!" I embraced him, feverishly planting kisses all over him.

The driver turned red and looked away. "Oh my darling," I smiled at the knight, "to be without you will make my legs weak, but my heart stronger."

Tadhg smiled gently. "I love you, Coriana."

"And I, you."

A kiss on the lips, and Tadhg smiled at me as he produced a purple flower and tucked it into my hair. "A safe journey, my sweet." Then Tadhg's eyes lit up. "Oh yes, I brought you something else."

Reaching back, Tadhg dragged something towards me and showed that a black mare was tied to the back of the carriage. "She will accompany you on the journeys ahead."

"Tadhg," I turned to him, "but how—"

Just smiling, Tadhg winked. "Atticus sends his blessings."

I kissed Tadhg again, deep and full. "I will see you in two month's time, my love…"

My lover smiled pleasantly—a smile I could dream and wait for. The carriage started off again, I watched Tadhg stand in watch as we went off. I knew that I could never forget my friend Adelaide, but I did not have to. Her world new was beyond my own, and she was with my parents now. I would still see her haunt my dreams, but I would no longer be alone. Through the eyes of a warrior, I gazed upon the man that had given my heart peace and I would love him for the rest of my days.


	3. The Final Wish of a Dying Man

**Disclaimer: **All my original characters and plot. I don't own Tortall or the places, but the people. Enjoy!

**Through the Eyes of a Warrior**

**Story 3**

**The Final Wish of a Dying Man**

Shock held me in my place as I stared at the ghastly image of my dying father. We stared at each other; mine a glare of confusion and mistrust, while his eyes held apology and regret.

"Is _this_ what Tortall does to our daughters?"

I pulled away before my father could touch the scar on my right cheek. _"You should see what age has done to you."_ I thought bitterly, but remained calm. "I came here only to see you die, old man." My sour words gave me away. "As you wished me to do so."

My father's dry, cracked lips sagged at this and he observed me for a moment, before moving into our ancient house. "Would you have some tea, Demina?"

Entering the house, I felt the stale chill that had overtaken the place, the odd smell of death and tattered tapestries waving in the wind. "No." I replied flatly.

Turning to me, my father frowned. "It hasn't poison in it, child."

Knowing that from my first steps into this house were ones of agonizing memories and cruel words, I softened. "Forgive me. I feel unwell."

"Ahh," my father smiled, "tea is the remedy then."

The years must have been hard on him, for I could see it by the shadows on his face. I remember long ago, the strength my father had. Built like a lord, superior looking, slim from fighting battles, and tall—he was taller then, towering over me, but now he just looked like any other man to me. Since I first saw my father at four, when he returned from a war, I knew I wanted to be like him—majestic and bold, kind and courtly. Never did I believe I could prepare myself for the way he appeared now—like an old pauper. At least those large eyebrows of his held their dark, brooding color, but his lips had grown thin, covering teeth that seemed too large for him, and he far too thin for a man his age.

I wanted to ask if _he_ was doing well…he looked so incredibly taught and torn. How did he even stay on his feet? Where had all the servants gone?

"Why don't you let me get the tea, Father?"

"No, no, I'm all right," Father replied, "I shan't bother you with trivial things."

"What of Emma and Delanna?"

Father glanced over his shoulder as he filled the cups with the prepared water. "I told them not to come back. They're wasting their time with this old man."

A pang of regret stung my side and I rose from the table. "I ask none of your pity." Father waved me to sit down. "Take your seat, child, I am well enough."

When Father placed the tea before me his hand shook, but he steadied it quickly and placed sugar and cream on the table as he sat across from me. There was some silence as I prepared my tea to drink, and Father smiled as he sipped his own unadulterated tea. "My, you've grown little one. The years have gone by so quickly…made you a lady. And a knight."

The youngest of a brood of four children, I knew my father less than my three brothers, but well enough for being the only girl. "Change is expected."

My father gazed at me for a moment, I pretended as if he was only a speck of dust as I gazed through the kitchen window. "How long have the servants been gone?"

"Some months now." Father sighed.

"Was this before or after you wrote me?"

"I can't remember." Father sipped his tea. "The days are a blur."

Turning to him, I saw the age that had crept into his formerly young face once again. Every time I viewed my father's new image, it was as if I was gazing upon him for the first time. He had changed that much. I averted my eyes.

"Yes." I agreed, setting my tea down. "The doctors can do nothing?"

"Everything they tried failed." Father replied. "It was no use."

The thick dark brown hair father once had turned now to a sickly, dark gray. My hair was like his, my eyes, too, dark and contemplative. All my brothers had taken after my mother, the light hair, the brilliant eyes, but I had dull gray eyes and my father had eyes nearly all black.

"And my brothers?"

"They came other days." Father replied. "They came and left with sadness, but they will forget my name soon enough."

"And I won't?"

Father stared at me. "You and I have far too much in common for that."

Damn him for being right. I wanted to walk out then, but I had promised to stay until his death. I did not believe at the time how hard it may have been.

"Your brothers have promised to come after this ordeal is over." My father smiled and reached slowly across the table. "I hope I have not burdened you."

Glancing at my father, I gently lay my hand atop his, noting how cold his was, but I managed to force a smile.

The day was quiet. I took to the large library and Father rested in his chambers. Although it was hard to concentrate, I found pleasure in the books as the sun filtered into the library and birds chirped outside. The fresh air smelled sweet due to the new spring rain that had come yesterday.

Poems. I loved poems. They were simple and to the point. Sometimes books made me impatient, so I flipped through a selection of poems that had been worn by years of constant use.

_Lo, _

_The road is long, _

_On this journey I partake,_

_I walk alone,_

_In the land men forsake,_

_Whispers from memories,_

_Make the trees shiver,_

_I hear their voices,_

_Over and over,_

_'Shall I ever reach home?'_

_I wonder aloud,_

_'I'm here, so alone,_

_And I wish to be out!'_

_But I will keep walking,_

_Until I will find,_

_Somewhere to call home,_

_Someone to call mine._

_By Lord Godfrey Valcourt of Pearlmouth_

"Aye, Lord Godfrey," I sighed closing the book of poems, making dust rise, "you've my condolences."

I heard a faint struggle for air. Father was coughing. Instantly I ran to where the sound came from, the book at my side. I saw Father leaning on the wall in the hall. "Father are you—"

"Away, child, away," Father shoved at me for my efforts to help him, "I've no need of assistance, 'tis only a cough. It comes and goes."

Father stood and cleared his throat on the white handkerchief, now soiled yellow and spotted with dried blood. "I thought you were resting."

Managing to stand on his own, Father continued down the hall. "I couldn't."

"Is something the matter?"

Father glanced at the book in my hands, ignoring my question as he smirked. "Ahh, you were in the library."

"That I was."

"At the sound of her song my heart becomes coward," Father recited with a distant look on his face, "I look to her eyes, her lips red as a flower."

"You and your poetry." I laughed. "Is there anything you need?"

Father smiled. "A good book."

Going on ahead of me, Father beckoned me with his hand. "Come, child, we shall go to the library."

Father had always been a kind man. Never saying a word of cruelty, always the gentleman, and always loving toward his children, but there had been an odd distance between he and I. Perhaps because…I did not remember his image when he returned for the first time or there could have been many other reasons. I never knew my mother, for she had died giving birth to me, and for some time as a young girl I suspected Father blamed me for her death, but as I grew I found he held no umbrage towards me for it. Whatever reason it was that Father and I took such caution between each other was never spoken of.

When I went to be a knight, Father disapproved. He did not yell or holler, he simply gave me his coarse blessing, got to his feet, and walked away, slamming the door to his chambers behind him. What did he need of me? Oh foul fate!

After all I was the only child following in his footsteps. Each of my brothers had either become clergymen or far-off land owners. I, on the other hand, wanted to become a knight.

Father continued ahead of me, but I heard an odd sound. A woman's singing. "Emma!" I said suddenly.

Without thinking, I dashed off down the hall, passing Father abruptly, and heading downstairs to see an empty kitchen. Where in the _world_ was she? The singing became louder. "Emma!" I cried and ran through the corridor to the front door.

I threw it open to see the gray haired old maid coming closer over the cobblestone with a slow moving mule. The old woman beside Emma urged the mule on. I felt a grin overtake my face. "Emma! Delanna!"

Soon, we were in the kitchen, hugging each other with happiness. "When we received word our wee Mina were here, we 'ad ta come!" Emma said, kissing my nose.

"If there's at least one livin' 'ere," Delanna commented, "we're 'ere, too."

"Oh, Delanna!" I hugged her small frame again.

A young girl had come with them, no older than myself, and she had Emma's bright eyes. Her name was Gilliana and she was Emma's youngest child.

"How good it is to have happiness in these halls again."

I turned to see my father approaching, Emma, Delanna, and Gilliana all bowed in respect. They averted their eyes so as not to see his changed figure and mourn for him. "What?" Father queried. "I do not bring death _with_ me."

"No, my lord," Delanna agreed, "but you must rest for a time. We will take care of things from now on."

"My," Emma sighed, "I was gettin' tired o' my children!"

The day went well and I learned that happiness was not something from fairytales, but my darkest days were yet to come. Father's condition worsened ten fold in less than a week's time and soon he was confined to his bed, insisting that I come to read to him the books he wished to hear. "My ears thirst for an angel's voice," father said, "and my eyes wish for a beautiful face."

So I read to Father and he remained in a peaceful state, his eyes closed as he breathed slowly and saw the vivid scenes I so desperately tried to portray for him. When I came to read to him on a fairly rainy day, Father insisted I keep the windows open. "I am comforted by it's sound," Father informed as I threw open the shutters, "I know that the world cries with me on these days."

"Aye," I agreed with a smile as I sat in the torn leather seated chair by his bed, "what shall I read to you today?"

Father waved my notion away. "The time has come to bring forth the words of heart."

I became frigid. What did he know of the heart? "Tell me, Demina, why did you not return?"

For a moment I was speechless, but I found the words to reply. "I did not believe you wished for my presence."

"You're my daughter, my little one," Father smiled gently at me, "I might have liked to see you marry."

A lump caught in my throat. "It was short lived."

"And I would have mourned with you."

I was losing my temper. "Father, my private affairs are to be _left_ as so."

Staring at me for a quiet moment, Father searched my eyes, then sighed and close his own. "I was afraid…" Father sighed, "that your fate may be bound to Gerard's."

"Gerard?" I asked confused. "Who is Gerard?"

"Your brother."

I stared at Father for a long moment. I had no brothers carrying the name Gerard and I knew no brother of mine had joined the knighthood. "What do you mean?"

"I suppose it is time you learn the truth…" Father shifted uncomfortably, "the truth of your mother's death, the truth of my absence…the truth about Gerard."

Father gestured for me to come closer. I took his offer and then Father began his story. "Thirty years ago I was a young man." Father began. "I fought for kings and I loved a woman, your mother, Lady Delia D'Ormonde of the Copper Isles. A year following our joyous marriage we had our first child—a son, named Gerard. We were so happy. Gerard was a strong young boy, always besting those his own age, but kind and protective of those younger than him. Gerard was the visage of the perfect young man. Then he joined the knighthood."

Father paused for a moment to lick his dry lips and then sighed. "I was never prouder. My first son following in my footsteps, expecting his brothers to do the same. Eric, the youngest then, was only a toddler, not nearly weaned. Gerard returned now and then and upon his returns there was great celebrations held. Then there was the autumn harvest just before your birth, when Gerard did not return." I went to speak, but Father continued. "But this is not where the story ends. When the letter arrived, saying that Gerard had died in combat…Delia and I fell to pieces. Delia took it harder than I, I suppose all mothers do, but she took no food and grew weary as you suffered in her womb. Two months after the letter arrived, Delia birthed you and your twin sister."

"My what?"

"She was first to be born." Father said with sorrow and coughed a little. "Her breath gave out…she was too weak, but you…_you_, Demina, were our miracle. Your mother loved every inch of you…she never wanted to let go of you."

I felt father's icy hand grip mine strongly, searching for warmth and the good memory to keep hold of. "But your mother continued to digress." Father continued, freeing my hand. "And finally I woke one morning to find her dead in my arms…I tried to revive Delia…but when I found I could not I went mad. I smashed things in my room, screamed curses at the gods, and when I heard your desperate cries…I prepared to end my misery. I saw your little form, squirming about with fear, and the shard I prepared to kill the both of us with fell to the ground. When I lifted you in my arms your little cries ceased and you slept peacefully. That day I rode off and I did not return for three years. By then you knew me not, you were frightened of me. Those who reared you told a strange tale of the time before you, so I went on living as if…nothing ever happened."

My whole body felt numb…strangely numb. "But…_why_ wasn't I told this?"

"Things were…_easier_ to pretend that Gerard had never been born rather than deal with the painful memory of his death, your mother," Father bit his bottom lip, "and my madness…"

Through the eyes of a warrior I saw a once vibrant man now broken. Still, Father retained a great dignity in his weakened state. Without thinking, I reached over and took my father's hand in mine, despite how chilly it was, and I held it tightly in my grip. Opening his eyes, Father gazed at me. "Oh how I love you little one."

I felt my insides tugging at me. "Do you approve of me, Father?"

Father lifted his free hand to touch my cheek. "You are my child. If you are happy then so shall I be."

Leaning forward, I kissed my father's forehead and smiled. "Thank you."

In the following week my father did not wake from his slumber and we buried him beside my mother and two unmarked graves in the family plot just outside our house. Only my brother Erik came in time to see Father being lowered into the ground.

"I believe you made what days he had left pleasurable." Erik commented, then glanced at me. "He always loved you best."

I furrowed my brows, turning to Erik. "Erik. If you believe that, then you hardly knew him."


	4. Beyond These Fields

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I own nothing of Tamora Pierce's fantasy! I own the people in this story, that's it. Malynna, Gaerith, Movis, Salendra, Malessa, and their father are the people I own—I made up the place called Albrethe, too. Oh well, I hope you like it. It takes place in the war before women were given the chance to be knighted._

**Beyond These Fields**

I am old now, withered like some sort of late summer flower that tried to survive the fall. Once, a very long time ago, I was young and vibrant and I played in these now overgrown, lonely fields that stretch to the horizon. I would lose whole days in those fields, with my brother, my best friend at my side. Gaerith would take my hand in his, the crop was above my head then, and he would lead me blinded through those dense plants. When the crops were nearly to his own chin, he would put me up on my shoulders while I shouted commands. The sound of the horses, the water well, and the churning butter would fade and only Gaerith's voice remained, telling me the stories of our ancestors, praising our mother and father's people.

Then the war came and all was dark in the land. First Father and Gaerith left, but the problems did not stop there. Mother had to sell the servants and livestock, save one horse to travel to the nearest village for supplies, leaving the fields unattended and the back breaking work to ourselves. Our oldest two servants, an elderly man and woman refused to leave for our home had also been theirs.

When my mother fell ill, the whole place fell into a black abyss, shadows lurking in every corner and the fields forever a grayish brown--not worth planting in. I came to take over most of the household chores, my mind astray with thoughts of the past and those days in the fields with my brother.

Now and then letters came, telling us of Father and Gaerith's current condition, but there was no way to reply. Mother took to her bed for good. After some time a letter came summoning me to my uncle's presence, but I refused to go. I'd never leave my home—my mother. Salendra urged me to go, but I defied everyone, even my own father's wishes. "I won't leave my home to ruin."

"But we'll be here," Salendra insisted, "we will not let your home decay. All will be well."

My temper was foul as a child and it had not died. "My pest of an uncle may think me a fool, but I refuse to let you think it of me!" I snapped, grabbing at the clean breeches that I wore to wash the windows. "I want only to be here and take care of my home!"

Movis came in then, the old man bent over, but his wise old eyes set on me. "With the war coming ever closer, child, how can you think to defend your home? You must go to your uncle's home, there is nothing left here for you."

"I will die on my own soil."

"But death is a long ways off for you, Malynna." Salendra took my hand. "One day, when the war is over, you may return to this home and you may start anew."

"I will wait for my father and brother."

Salendra and Mavis glanced at each other wryly, and then looked to me sorrowfully. "What?" I queried in my consternation. "What of those dour looks?"

"Oh child, the war will only take from this land." Salendra grew misty eyed. "Your own mother Malessa knows this."

"I promised Gaerith I would not let our home be destroyed—that I would do everything in my power if need be."

"Go to your uncle's." Salendra begged me. "Go where you will be safe. Live to fight another day, child!"

My heart weakened at the thought of how powerless I truly was--being a woman. How could everyone think me a helpless child? I was nearly a woman, although I no longer looked the part of a girl. While broadening my shoulders, the heavy work and the strain of my muscles remained a strange joy to me—to feel my body working. To lay at night, my body pounding from the hard work—I'd never experienced anything so releasing, except when I had been in the fields with my brother Gaerith.

Without further adieu I had been coerced into agreeing to stay with my petty uncle to the north, but in my heart I felt defiance grow. Two days after a letter had been sent to my uncle, I began to have dreams of the carriage coming to claim me from my home—I fought, but none listened and I was dragged away from my home into a carriage where the dead bodies of my father and brother lay. It was frightening, all that blood, and their eyes open, dazed, like the young calf that had been discarded by the wolves when the dogs came chasing. When I woke to the break of day I became ill and after releasing my stomach, I came downstairs to find the house empty. Salendra and Movis were nowhere to be seen, but I soon came upon them in the barn where whispers stole into the walls and burrowed beneath the hay when I entered. "Salendra! Movis!" I called to them, angry they would be so secretive. "Where—"

"Shh, child!" Salendra's voice snapped. "Over here!"

When I found the stall the two were in, I hesitated to open it, and then it swung open on its own, Salendra standing there beside the horse, packed and ready to go and old Movis with a sword in hand. At first I was angry and then when my mind settled, quicker than usual, I became disheartened so badly I was nearly in tears. "You would leave us?" I asked, my eyes swelling. "But, why?"

"Never, darling Malynna, never." Salendra hugged me, securing my faith in her again, and then she pulled away. "We're not the one's that must go."

"But Uncle sends a carriage—"

"Last night Movis and I had a dream—a dream so frighteningly real we both woke with a start." Salendra began. "We dreamt of the war, here, in our own home, soldiers fighting the unspeakable forces of darkness, and then...there was nothing. The castle was in shambles, the barn burnt to the ground, and only a horse lived. This black eyed beauty that is only permitted on rides to town and back. His destiny is south, as is yours."

"But—"

"In the spare time you had, you learned the ways of this sword. I saw you, speaking to old Gontry, as you slashed right and left." Movis handed it to me. "It rests in your hands like a mace rests in a warrior's. You must go."

"The house...Mother..."

"If you don't go, the house will." My mother's weak voice insisted from behind me. I turned, facing her pale form, now gaunt and ghost-like as she gazed at me through misty eyes.

"Malynna, my daughter," Mother took my hands in hers, "in this life we women were given a strange lot. I will not see you break yourself here and I won't allow your uncle's wife to do the same. You've grown strong and you must use that strength for our home--to find your father and brother. We have all of our faith in you."

Salendra took my shoulders, turning me to her. "Go to the nearest village, insist on finding a soldier. Go by a boy's name—we need not teach you to be firm, but you must hide yourself from the men."

In moments I was riding on Gontry, dressed as a simple peasant boy, the saddlebags less-than-full, and my journey was southward, from where the forever gray skies inched toward our farm. Gontry was a charger, a beautiful horse, and he was meant for more than simple use—he told me so as we raced over the fields.

Without my knowing, my mother died in her bed the moment I crossed from my home fields and into the southern lands.

Gontry wanted to run, but I knew better than to waste his speed and energy. Halfway through the fields, he took control and raced through the high grass without permission. It would be the beginning of a long, harsh summer.

The south was as bad as it could have been. I was accepted as an officer, under the name Malen of Albrethe, and sent southward to meet my destiny. Those first few months were a blur—death was rampant and although that first summer I killed no one, I still felt as if the black toll was heavy upon the land of Tortall.

Beasts of all kind crossed my eyes—huge hideous spider-people, men that were half bull, and many women had come to fight on the battlefield. By my fourth month, when frost settled over my sleeping body at night, I woke to find that my whole flank had been wiped out.

Only old Gontry remained, feasting on the dead grass around me and there was no sign of foe or friend for miles. I was on my own—or so I thought.

"Who goes there?"

The deep voice was so unfamiliar and frightening that I dared not move from my spot from behind my horse. "Will you not answer?"

Finally I found the strength within me and stepped out from behind my horse, seeing the dark figure. "Who wishes to know?"

The man furrowed his brows at me, in slight recognition, as I saw two bright blue eyes staring back at me. Eyes softer than the face that had changed so much. "Gaerith?" I asked in disbelief and blinked. "Gaerith of Albrethe?"

Gaerith stared at me, his handsome features taking in my form, but certainly he was confounded. "How do you know my name, lad?"

"I'm no lad." I replied, my heart pounding as I pulled off my grimy helmet. "Don't you remember me? It is I, Malynna."

"Ma—" Gaerith froze for a moment and then, relenting all coldness, he rushed to me, taking me swiftly into his arms and spinning me about, "Malynna!"

"I've searched for you for so long!" I explained quickly. "I—I heard that you weren't dead—that you were alive and fighting! Oh Gaerith!"

"My darling little sister." Gaerith mused, staring at me with those kind, blue eyes. "By the gods, you've grown so."

"You have changed as well, brother…" I smiled at that and stepped back, "and father? Where is father?"

Gaerith's eyes went dark then. "He is home, Malynna, to rest."

"To rest?" I felt my heart stop beating for a moment and then I lowered my eyes. "I have been gone for so long…I didn't know…"

"Oh Malynna!" Gaerith swept me into his arms again. "My little sister—it is so good to see you, to have you with me."

That night Gaerith and I traveled north; trying to find a new company to fight with, but being together was more than enough for the moment. "When we find the company, Malynna, I want you to return home."

"I won't leave you, Gaerith." I replied swiftly. "I've lost everyone else—I could not bear to lose you."

Gaerith went silent at that and then sighed. "You know I won't let you out of my sight."

"And I the same."

We were children again that night, laughing and teasing each other, telling old stories we'd heard for years, and bringing up those old memories on the farm. We ate well together that night, after finding a rabbit and some wild vegetables. Our clothes were tattered, but the night was warmer than usual, and we slept well before waking in the morning and beginning our trot northwards.

There were dead soldiers abound, but it wasn't as if neither of us had seen such a sight before. Gaerith stopped at one, inspecting him.

"Take his boots." Gaerith commanded.

"His...boots?"

"Yes, his boots," Gaerith was becoming impatient, "Malynna!"

"I can't!"

Gaerith grabbed my shoulders, shaking me a bit, gazing into my eyes. "Do you wish to lie here beside him? Do you want the buzzards to feed off of your skin? Why do you hesitate? A battlefield is no place for being proper!"

With all my strength I shoved Gaerith away. "It's disgusting! Stealing from a dead man—would you want someone to steal your own father's boots?"

Gaerith looked away at that, his darkened eyes holding horrors I could never imagine, but I could see by the look on his face what he meant. I looked to Gaerith's own boots, too big for even his feet, but our seal remained on them. Without a second thought, like a brawling boy, I shoved Gaerith again—hard enough to bring him from his stupor. "You pig!" I growled my reprimand. "You stole from your own dead father's feet!"

Gaerith shot fiery eyes in my direction. "You don't know what it is to fight to live, Malynna. These awful four month's you've been coddled. You may think it's disgusting, cruel, vile—whatever you may label it, but you've never starved for days, trapped by the enemy, your father going into delusions!" Gaerith's voice rose now. "Yes, I took my father's boots, but only because he forced me to! He was dying of a wound to the stomach and he ordered me to take them and go. Do you know what it was like leaving him behind?"

I gritted my teeth. "You left him behind?"

"This is survival, Malynna!" Gaerith bellowed. "Not some game!"

Without giving Gaerith more time to rage, I went to the dead soldier's feet and fell to my knees. I grabbed at the boot and tugged as hard as I could and finally, the first boot came off, revealing a pale, swollen, slimy foot. I turned my eyes to the other boot, closing my mind to the putrid odor of death, the sight of the decaying flesh, and I tugged on it. I tried to twist the boot off and ended up successfully ripping the soldier's foot from the leg. I turned and threw up. "Good," Gaerith sighed, giving me some privacy as he went and picked up the boots, "I'll go wash them out for you."

Quickly, I clambered to my feet and ran after him.

We walked side by side northward quietly. "I'm sorry."

I refused to reply, keeping my eyes on the horizon. "Malynna." I turned to Gaerith, his blue eyes full of regret. "I'm _sorry_."

"You were right." I replied, gritting my teeth. "But I _do_ know what it is to fight to live, Gaerith. You may think being a man, fighting battles—that these things are awful, and they are, but have you ever considered the life of a woman? A life of servitude, granting happiness, and never being able to speak for yourself? I'd much rather be fighting battles to free my country, with good men at my side, than being silent forever."

At that Gaerith nodded his agreement. "Someday, Malynna, when this war is over…"

"Halt!"

The royal army's guards had found us; they took us to a new flank, after feeding us and healing our wounds. "Will you still go on with this foolishness, Malynna?"

"Yes." I said. "I won't leave your side, Gaerith. Not as long as I still live."

Gaerith only nodded, biting his teeth. "Then gather your things. We depart tonight."

All the world was a blur once more. War, blood…all I remember was the severe pounding in my ears from the horse's hooves, the war drums—the men's hearts and my own.

There came a battle, one that hung like death over every shoulder's heart, and we knew that the bulk of we soldiers would not return—whether we should be victorious or defeated. Gaerith died that day—defending the land of Tortall. I remember it then, I killed for my first time, but it only felt as if I had twisted a chicken's neck for supper. Nothing was compared to seeing my brother dying.

The flag of Tortall had fallen and Gaerith received it, for should it fall then so should Tortall. An arrow came from behind him, going clean through his heart and that is when he fell.

I ran to Gaerith, the enemies beginning to retreat, and I landed on my knees next to my brother. "Help!" I cried out, lifting my brother's head from the bloodied mud below him. "Help me!"

"Malynna," Gaerith took my wrist in his hand, "raise the flag, Malynna. Raise the flag…so Tortall shall remain free."

I stared at Gaerith, unable to release him—unprepared to lose him to the land of death. "No…" I whispered in disbelief, "Gaerith…please…"

Gaerith released my wrist and his eyes rolled back, those blue, distant eyes filled with hope and lifting to the sky. I gently placed his head back to the earth and covered his eyes…my heart painful as tears rolled down my cheeks. I saw the flag, tattered and in the wind it slopped around in the mud mixed with dead men's blood, sweat, and tears. I took hold of the broken staff and lifted the flag.

I cried out my country's name, the remaining men there to cry out victory, and then…silence. The soldier's bodies were carried off of the battlefield. Gaerith would be going home and, due to injury, I, too, would be going northward.

Now here I am. Alone, or so I figured at first. I was awarded for my service and when the war finally ended the farm was up and running once more. The family grave awaits my presence now, but I'm too much a fighter to leave this earth just yet. Women have now been accepted in the army and as knights of the king.

I fought for Tortall, I fought for my home, and although it took more than I could give, I remain indifferent toward the sacrifices I had to give. Men are not the only ones who can fight.


End file.
